CHAPTER I: DOOMS OF DECEIVE (6)
1528 Words
CHAPTER I: DOOMS OF DECEIVE (6)
Dozens of violet rays began to enter the nearby streams. A multitude of scattered rain ran through the cursed night. The power of the elect was fused. The strength of the gods was withdrawing in the darkness of an awesome storm, and even if it was the last thing these brothers did, they would search for the wretched soul, they would find it, and revenge would be dealt.
Lost in the depths, the duality began to perceive the insatiable power that was displayed in the heights of the heavens. The darkness was raging, and the cries of the gods were heard in the currents of the foreboding winds. A storm covered behind them, for the accelerated pace of the son of evil had carried the mortal between descending roads that led to nearby meadows to the south.
No one knew the meadows like Iram. The prince of Aravir had studied the planes and shores on the horizon for the past twenty-five years. The forests and the hills, the rivers and the paths to the deepest bushes. His gaze was cold and sure; his journey was complex and successful. The warrior's soul was adventurous in itself, and did not look back, even if the mortal was in his slow and weak steps.
"I need to eat," exclaims the mortal, in his forced gait. "We must stop."
"Look back," exclaims Iram. "Do you see those clouds? We cannot stop. We are very close to dawn, and between the hill of the ancestral gate we can get lost. There you will take your rest. We are very close; you must not decay. "
The duality slipped between nearby hills, until they reached updrafts of lighted green. The first rays of dawn reached the island narrowly, and the clarity of the skies could be seen between the sides of the compressed and insatiably alive green that dominated its surroundings. Pasithea perceived, thanks to the clarity gradually imposed on her eyes, that they were crossing the meadows of a dangerous and infuriating jungle. An unfair path; confused in the low shadows of the mountains.
Bereft of deeper comprehension, around the mythical greens of arousal and pride. The company foresaw the entrance of a gleaming field; arrayed in the valley of the rising sun. Upon cardinal mysteries that endowed the colorful stairways, for an endless path. A designed doom, whereas field of hustle crossed the ancient roots, throughout the analogues gates of uncertainty and confusion. The hidden morning; the chains of the unknown. The steps of deceive. The treacherous ways of l**t and ego, as they beheld insidious overhead. Hence, above the shire of disdain, the dyad followed ahead without hesitate. Among unredeemed voices and impossible promises.
They passed the rising gates, just as they could, and there their path opened up to a peak covered in fallen statues; crossing them, until reaching the top, and from there, descending on a side path that led to the surface of the lower planes. They descended in an elegant and unique way, towards the meadows of the southeast of the island; a path that the woman did not remember, nor had she seen before. They succumbed among the ancestral leaves; dozens of steep trees passed, and when the woman looked back again, the center of the region had been lost, and the purple clouds were lost in the distance of her long paths. They had lost them.
Dawn fell, and both found themselves in the vicissitude of an exasperating floral path of their departure. The woman had no idea how, but the path had led them out of the jungle. The expanse of green was disappearing, and they quickly entered the sinful edges that recalled the memory of the woman.
They passed through a beautiful little field; open, among the laurels of the voluminous, fresh meadow. The woman felt renewed, although very tired. They entered the meadow, between the paths of a yellow field. The meadow was extended with thin oaks, and all prevailed with a distinctive yellowish color that treasured the personality of the place.
"It is here," exclaims Iram. “We must enter a few more leagues towards the center, and there you can rest. Do you feel good? "
"I'm a little dizzy," Pasithea exclaims. "Let's just get where you say fast."
They took a few more steps towards the center of the yellowish forest, until they came to a cluster of oaks in a row, which led the way to a large, dry tree, but which sprouted dozens of yellowish leaves. In the distance was a small waterfall, delightful to the sight of her exhausted eyes. Rest at last, had found them.
They rested on the blessed and peaceful ground, among the ten small birds; singers who lit up the place with a beautiful and sound ensemble. Iram covered the woman with her cloak, built a small fire, and headed for the waterfall. After a while, she returned, with ten fish, ready to be cooked and heated. And then it began to ignite them, in the lowering of the moment.
"You can sit down too, you know?" Pasithea says.
"I'm fine here"
“You seem very eager,” Pasithea exclaims.
"Well, don't pretend I'll be calm" exclaims Iram. "I have no idea what has happened to my father, I am having a bad feeling, and I am also helping a total stranger to flee at the expense of my kingdom."
"Fine, but if you don't feel like talking this way, how do you intend to stop being afraid of fate?"
The man sat down slowly, in front of the fire. He tried to breathe, and calm down, because, although his nerves were rushing him, the tranquility and relief of the woman's soul took hold of him. They rubbed off on her being.
They relaxed a bit, eating the blissful fish they had gotten. The man was less anxious, in the woman's eyes, but neither of them had said a single word to each other at their meal; the prince of Aravir, carried out his former hostility. He stared at the woman, her delicate face captivating his gaze with compassion and sympathy. And with that, he tried to break the ice.
“So you were friend of the kings, huh?” asks Iram.
“I was indeed.” responds Pasithea.
“Then you must know who I am.” says Iram.
“Yes, as well as the southern royalty.” replies Pasithea. “As well as the terrifying differences between the god brothers.”
“Well, it’s a difference fair deserved.” responds Iram. “And it’s not even their fault. Is everything fault from your friend Marlina.”
“You talk like you've met her before.” says Pasithea.
“I have, unfortunately. Out of my will, “responds Iram. “But I dont want to talk about it.”
There was a brief silence afterwards, for the men took away his look, looking at the gleaming of the passing water, upon the distant waterfall.
“Why would Amsiret wanted to kill Marlina?”
“I yet, don’t really know.” Responds Pasithea. “All I know is that she made a betrayal. A deceive, to the royalty.”
“Any guess you want to take?” asks Iram.
“It’s hard to tell. “replies Pasithea. “It could be anything. Marlina was a very, unstable person. Although I admired her, for I saw her heart. I witness her light, since I was from day one of Maram.”
“So, you were right there after the great war.”
“I was born days before it started,” exclaims Pasithea. “We were selected, by Elgoneth. To redeemed the fallen Kingdom of Adnia. I was one of the first hundred mortals. I was raised with the whispers of the battle, all in the bulding of Sirmallen. Right before the kingdom was established. Right before we reclaim our land.”
“Your land?” asks Iram.
“You do know the north partially won the war, right?” asks Pasithea.
“That´s what you like to think,” responds Iram. “No one won, for life didn’t wanted for any of them to win. The energy dictated, no one earned to win. That´s why Inmaeh secluded the realm. That’s why two kingdoms established, for they need one another, as much as they hate to. Just because your land got lifted upside river and the mystic tree, doe not mean you won.”
“Well, if you want to see it that way.” Says Pasithea. “I guess you’re right, but at Maram everyone treated like a victory.”
“Oh really?” asks Iram.
“Yes! We make festivals, we danced, we clapped.” Says Pasithea. “All of this, before the modern times. The darker behaviors. The melancholy, of the kings.”
“The melancholy?” asks Iram.
“You know, for someone so deepen in the southern realm, you do not seem indifferent at all by your neighbor.” Says Pasithea. “It feels as thoug, you’d like to know far more about it.”
“Not exactly,” responds Iram. “Although today it´ll be a long day. So, if you want to talk me about it, maybe you could start telling me how exactly you became so close to them.”
“You don’t trust me, do you?” asks Paisthea.
“I don’t. It’s not personal.” replies Iram. “Or you know what? It is indeed personal. Is just not about you.”
“I understand.” says Paisthea. “Maybe you'll trust, after this.”
“We'll see.” responds Iram.
“I shall give you then,” says Pasithea. “The life within the Highest Siege. Around The Northern Kings.”
- Writer
